


Carry Your Children Home

by TeamSeaSlug



Category: Pandora Hearts
Genre: Drunkenness, Family Feels, Gen, Mild Misogyny, Sibling Bonding, Vincent gets drunk, carry them home, uncomfortable parties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 22:33:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14724837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamSeaSlug/pseuds/TeamSeaSlug
Summary: Vincent has too much to drink at a social gathering.





	Carry Your Children Home

**Author's Note:**

> Didn't even proofread or have this beta'd and I wrote this in one sitting.
> 
> Please let me know if you see any mistakes.

As a member of one of the four great dukedoms, there were certain responsibilities that were expected, even if Gilbert was not born into the household. There was a small amount of shunning that both he and his brother Vincent faced from the outside peers (shunned more than the rest of the members of the Nightray Household) in the beginning, but by the age of eighteen these things started to calm down. Truth be told, when Gilbert had Come of Age at fifteen years old the other nobles became increasingly more curious, as puberty was changing his looks rapidly; losing some of the chub in his cheeks and gaining height rapidly, eyes looking sharper in the mirror and his face losing the features of a child and gaining more of the features of a man.

Break insisted constantly that he was barely even a man, despite being considered an adult in the eyes of the world. “A ceremony not a man makes,” he lectured, waggling an impossibly pale finger in his face, teasing him. “regardless of what the nobles say. You may be seen as an adult in the eyes of the world, but you have a long way to go before you graduate from being such a child.”

Gilbert had felt incredibly insulted, but there was a part of him that knew the older man was correct. By sixteen he had to enter the dating scene and despite growing rapidly as a man, he never felt smaller. Everyone seemed much more experienced than him about everything, he always felt like he was doing something wrong. Vincent entered the dating scene shortly after him, always moving so fast for his age in every way except emotionally, and even he seemed to have a complete understanding of how things went. Vincent was ever charming and mature, flirting but never too aggressive, and if Gilbert started to flounder he would swoop in and take over the situation.

Gilbert wasn’t interested in a relationship. He was interested in getting Oz out of the Abyss and he was interested in surviving in this shitty world without him. A girlfriend, a suitor, a wife-- those things meant nothing to him. His brother, however, was hard to read. He never seemed bothered by the attention and was nothing less than a gentleman in these situations. There were rumors (rumors that Gilbert could confirm as correct, but he wouldn’t throw Vincent to the wolves and possibly damage his steadily growing reputation) of Vincent taking women in the night in a purely physical, lustful way- a very ungentlemanly thing to do. These women, and even some men (the rumors said, but Gilbert didn’t know if that was gossip or correct, his knowledge of his brother was limited) never really told a soul, never confirmed or denied, and some even stopped appearing at social gatherings for the young and single and beautiful. Gilbert tried not to think of why they would disappear.

Despite this gossip, Vincent was so on his toes about everything in these situations that it made people wonder if he was a young, single noble after all, and not some heartbreaking bachelor in disguise. Gilbert found that ridiculous. He could hardly imagine his brother in a relationship at all- Vincent had childish outbursts at times, would get incredibly secretive, and had a particular…. _Clingy_ attachment to him. Gilbert thought he would grow out of it past fifteen, but with Vincent seventeen (and Gilbert eighteen), the younger sibling would try clutching onto his arm when they walked as if they were lovers, sit next to him at the dinner table every night, and even attempt to crawl into his bed at night. Gilbert tried to view these as innocent behaviors, as Vincent had never attempted anything… totally risque, but he couldn’t help but long for this phase in his younger brother’s life to be over with. Especially since he never seemed to cling to anyone else.

Nevertheless, even with the complaints, Gilbert was quietly grateful to his brother. He was calm and collected, and even cool in social situations, which helped Gilbert and his awkward, boorish personality at times.

Which was why seeing Vincent, drunk like nothing else Gilbert had ever seen- and in public, no less- ,was so shocking.

It was at a social mingling for single nobles in the fall. The air was crisp and leaves would make satisfying noises under shoes when stepped on. The party was for a young Miss Elaine- or was it Elanor? Gilbert didn’t know, he didn’t care to keep track-, who was making her debut in the dating scene at the ripe age of sixteen. The Nightrays had attended her Coming of Age ceremony and continued to interact with her family despite her not being anywhere near as big of a deal as they were; apparently they were business partners for something, so despite the family being a lesser noble, some of the bachelors of the Nightray household were urged to attend. A political marriage was in the air and Gilbert knew he and his brother were just being used as pawns.

And Elanor- or Elizabeth?- seemed to smell the air and wanted that exact thing. From the moment they arrived she was on him like a dog on a squirrel; she greeted him personally, offered him a drink (which Gilbert politely declined- was a special spiced wine, perfect for the weather, but he knew he was a lightweight), and clung to him the entire night, spewing praises and batting her lashes like she knew nothing else. Gilbert was growing used to his, used to this scene, but he never liked it, and it even made him uncomfortable still. Vincent peeled away from him after five or so minutes, said his pleasantries and went to go mingle, which made Gilbert feel even more anxious. Vincent was sort of his social shield and without him, he could feel the silences stretch on for longer than they should, feel too many eyes on him, and his tongue felt too heavy in his mouth with words he wanted to say but knew he should keep to himself.

An hour passed. Gilbert sat smoking a cigarette, Elizabeth- or maybe Edith- chatting with some of the other party goers in a semi-circle around Gilbert, meaning Gilbert was _technically_ still part of the conversation. Gilbert knew that smoking at these sort of parties would make him receive a scolding from his adoptive father, but he was growing increasingly more and more anxious without Vincent. Where was he? It was rare he would wander off without him for such a long time, especially when Vincent knew that Gilbert didn’t want to be here. Was he with some woman- taking her out where no one could find them, for a secret moment of lust? He hoped his brother would hurry it up so he could come and save him from the awkwardness of this situation.

Another hour passed. Cigarette after cigarette. People came and left out of the social semi-circle for drinks and servants came and went with plates of small food. Gilbert ate some without making eye contact with anyone; he tasted nothing but tobacco. Someone asked him a question, he answered “yes” without even hearing what the question was. And before he could wonder if that was the wrong thing to say, the band started and people got in order to dance, two long rows of men on one side and women on the other.

In a moment of panic (because by God, did Gilbert _not_ feel like a dance right now, and he was at his wits end), he excused himself to the washroom. The hostess (her name was… Emily? No, that was Break’s shitty, creepy doll) gave him directions, looking disappointed that he would not be her dance partner, and asked if he would be her partner for the next round. He made a promise he couldn’t keep and aborted, running the instructions of where to go so much he started to get confused.

He exited the ballroom, went into the foyer, went into the dining hall, then into the lounge. Party goers were everywhere, smoking and drinking, sitting at least two men to a woman, or two women to a man, or in a big group. In more hidden, shadowy places, where people weren’t necessarily looking, Gilbert could see couples whispering to each other, their hands in places they shouldn’t be. Gilbert wanted to leave, wanted to gather his younger brother and leave as soon as they possibly could. He smelled like smoke and his hands felt damp in his gloves.

And when he turned into a trophy room, near abandoned by most of the party (except for a few gossiping servants ignoring their duties for the night), he saw his younger brother, sitting down on a lounge, nursing a glass of wine. Well, nursing was incorrect- he was drinking with reckless abandon, completely alone.

“Vince?” Gilbert was completely shocked, to the point that he thought he had the wrong person. His brother had his eyes closed so it was entirely possible; his suit was slightly undone, exposing more of his neck than what was socially acceptable. The blonds head was lulled back, drinking wine like it was a lifeline, but when his named was called he moved the now empty glass away and opened his eyes, focusing on Gilbert.

“Hey,” Vincent greeted, his voice perfectly composed, if not having lost an edge to it. He wasn’t swaying or anything, and his speech wasn’t slurred, so he didn’t _seem_ messed up…

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh, you know,” Vincent said, waving a noncommittal hand. The empty wine glass sat next to the lounge he was perched on, dangerously close to the edge of the table. He smiled a little, a warm thing, but it was a tiny bit lazier than it usually was, almost to the point of being lopsided. Gilbert thought about how long they’d been there and tried calculating when he lost track of his brother. “just needed to get away. How’s the party?”

“Awful.” Gilbert moved to sit next to his brother after the blond gestured for him to do so. When he got close, though, his nostrils flared; his brother _reeked_ of wine, he noticed when he got close to him. When he was properly sitting next to him, Vincent swayed a tiny bit, almost like he was going to lean against his brother but chose to not. “Wait-- how much have you had to drink?”

“Oh, you know,” Vincent said again, completely noncommittal to the entire conversation. He wasn’t looking at Gilbert, just looking ahead, or occasionally down at his hands. Gilbert frowned, staring at his brothers face; his skin was flushed, he noticed. Vincent always had nice skin, nicer than Gilbert’s. Soft looking, everything about him was so much softer looking than him. Longer lashes, softer looking lips, softer looking skin.

“Vincent.”

“Hm?”

“Look at me.”

It took a moment of Vincent being defiant and just not doing what he asked him to do, so Gilbert reached out and grabbed his shoulder, yanking it to make his brother turn to him. His head lulled a little, but he was smiling, maybe even a bit wider. He was drunk, drunker than Gilbert had ever seen him- and, to be fair, Gilbert couldn’t think of a time he had _ever_ seen his younger brother drunk. What about this gathering made his brother slink off and drink in silence?

“You’re being awful rough with me, brother--”

“How much have you had to drink?” Gilbert demanded. He tried to be calm and caring when asking his brother, but his tone came out a lot harsher than he meant. Vincent’s heterochromic eyes widened at the tone, and in turn he didn’t answer, just shrugging a little. He looked like a child who had been caught doing something bad, refusing to answer to what he did.

Vincent never really did respond. He kept a certain level of eye contact before his eyes began trailing off, looking at his nose, then his mouth, then at the painting on the wall, then back to Gilbert.

Gilbert was at a loss to do. He had never seen his brother in this sort of state. He seemed fine at a glance, maybe a little distracted, but to a keen eye they’d notice the smell, and that Vincent was a little sloppy at the moment. They had been at the party for maybe three hours, which was the _bare minimum_ of time to spend at a party politely, but it truly was the bare minimum. It would still be seen as a bit rude for the both of them to bail, especially considering Gilbert had no idea how much Vincent had been socializing (and Gilbert had been smoking almost the entire time). He didn’t know how much Vincent had to drink and if anyone had seen him acting…. Obscenely.

But a part of him twisted at the idea of abandoning his brother here, in a trophy room, and going back to the party on his own. Both because he genuinely wanted to leave and was clinging to an excuse to get out of here, but also because… he just didn’t want to leave Vincent. Without the edge to his tone and the secretive smirk on his face, Vincent just looked… soft, and small. His eyes were flickering around like he was trying to take everything in, which wouldn’t be strange if they were in a more busy area, but they were in a trophy room with only two other people who weren’t even paying attention to them.

He debated bringing Vincent into the party a bit deeper, wondering if Vincent could pretend for another hour or so. He could bring him in and sit him down somewhere so he didn’t have to dance, and Gilbert could sit next to him, so when…. Elsa (was that her name?) came to talk to him again, Vincent could take care of the conversation and Gilbert could take care of keeping Vincent steady. If they left now he was pretty sure the two of them would never hear the end of it.

“We should go back,” Gilbert finally grumbled, releasing his grip on his brothers shoulders and standing up. The two servants seemed to notice the movement finally, becoming aware that nobles were in the room and scurrying away, leaving the two of them completely alone. Vincent didn’t even seem to notice. “The party is still going on. People are probably going to be finishing up dancing.”

“I don’t want to go.” Vincent said firmly, so firmly he sounded completely sober. Gilbert was startled by it, and Vincent looked incredibly serious, maintaining firm eye contact with a frown on his face. One would think not a thing was wrong other than the flush on his cheeks. He kept this pose, completely unblinking, deathly serious, until Gilbert spoke again.

“Wh- Why? We can’t just leave...”

“Because--” and just like that, Vincent started panting, his composure completely shattered. He put a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes, incredibly distressed, his words stammering a bit. Gilbert wasn’t sure what broke the seal, but it was gone, and it made Gilbert even more concerned about how far gone his brother really was. “Because-- Because--… Gil, I just- _I want to go home_.”

There was a desperation in his voice that tugged completely at his heart, and Vincent looked so small, so pathetic, frowning so sloppily up at him, his suit undone and his face flushed, that Gilbert completely made up his mind. Lectures about civility be damned, he was going to get his younger brother out of here.

“Alright,” he confirmed, nodding his head once in affirmation. “I’ll go find _what’s-her-face_ and tell her that we’re leaving.”

Vincent nodded back, sinking back into the lounge chair again. “Evelyn,” he corrected as Gilbert stormed out of the trophy room, trying his best to find the ballroom again.

It took a bit of time, going in and out of rooms, trying to find the source of where the most noise from people and music was coming from. Vincent had found the quietest available room that wasn’t a guest bedroom, he realized; every other place had people coming in and out, chatting and laughing, flirting and mingling. Gilbert had to tell himself to stop walking so fast and to walk at the appropriate speed to not draw any sort of attention to himself.

When he found the correct room, Evelyn noticed him before he noticed her, and approached. “Oh, Master Gilbert!” she called, batting her lashes for maybe the umpteenth time that night. “Thank goodness, I was worried you had gotten lost. Another dance will be starting soon-”

“Sorry to interrupt, but can I get a carriage home?” Gilbert cut her off, not sorry at all. She immediately looked shocked, almost scandalized by the question, so Gilbert added onto it: “It’s just-- my brother, Vince, is feeling unwell. Something seemed to disagree with his stomach, so-- I want to see him home safely.”

Evelyn still looked offended, but a bit more understanding. She nodded her head slowly, and Gilbert recalled his promise to dance with her, but he truthfully couldn’t be bothered with the action at the moment and merely wanted to get Vincent home and in bed safely. “I see. I will summon one,” she said, her voice soft and almost child-like. Young, she clearly was, and even though she was still an adult, she was merely a child with the title of an adult, just like him. But she was fair even in her disappointment, and bid Gilbert a farewell and well wishes for Vincent.

Gilbert then was set on the task of finding his brother, which proved difficult when he realized that Vincent was _not_ where he left him. His intoxicated younger brother had relocated, so Gilbert scouted, trying to walk briskly but not enough so as to gather attention. He wanted to run, honestly, and drag the boy by the collar, or maybe even carry him out of here, and was almost going to break into at least a jog when he finally found his brother.

Vincent was waiting by the door in the second gathering hall, leaning one shoulder on the door-frame but otherwise standing relatively proper. He mysteriously had another glass of wine in his hand. He didn’t even seem aware of his surroundings, even though people were watching him, trying to chat with him. “Vince-” Gilbert called, grabbing his arm above his elbow firmly. He remembered to keep his voice down. “We’re leaving.”

“About time.” Vincent then swallowed the rest of his wine in a single gulp.

Gilbert had to steer his younger brother, who was now wobbling only the slightest- only the trained eye would even see this. He kept the wine glass in his hand but otherwise allowed himself to be led, a pleasant smile on his face. Gilbert couldn’t tell if it was fake out of habit or genuine because he was leaving.

By the time the two of them made it to the front door, Evelyn intercepted the brothers, still looking upset but attempting to maintain her composure. “Thank you both for coming to my party,” she said, enunciating every word as if it had been practiced. And honestly, it probably was. “I hope Master Vincent feels much better. I apologize for whatever disagreed with him. And as for you, Master Gilbert-” her face broke into a smile, a natural blush on her face appearing. “I hope to see you at the next one.”

“ _We won’t be there!_ ” Vincent snapped, loudly and unexpectedly. Thankfully over the noise of the party it wasn’t loud enough that anyone else heard, but Evelyn, the hostess, definitely did. She gasped, scandalized, and Gilbert choked, his grip on his brother tightening incredibly so. When he looked back, Vincent looked almost mad.

“I-- I’m sorry, he’s really feeling unwell--” Gilbert attempted to cover, yanking his brother past Evelyn, attempting to just get out of the manor and into the carriage as quickly as possible. “You-- you have a lovely home, thank you for inviting us--” He was finally at the door, and a servant opened it for him, the cool, fall air immediately blowing into his face, into his nose. “I-- uh,” he paused, unsure of what to say. “Sorry.”

Getting his brother into the carriage was also a bit of a challenge. He knew he was yanking him very hard, but they had stone steps to go down and had to step into the coach. It was small, much smaller than what they were used to from the Nightray’s, but it would do for just the two of them. He sat his brother down, his suit coat open. He was still holding onto that empty glass.

“What the _fuck_ was that, Vincent?” Gilbert snapped when he was officially seated, and he felt the lurch of the carriage moving, and heard the sound of hooves. Vincent was flushed, even more so now, and not looking at him at all, looking at his hands. He was pouting like a child, that angry look on his face now taking on a much more tame nature. Gilbert attempted to catch his eyes, but Vincent was doing a great job of avoiding that.

After a bit of silence, Gilbert leaned towards his brother, snatching his chin and making him face him. That did it. Vincent looked startled, eyes blown wide by the aggressive gesture. If possibly, his face flushed even more with color.

“I just--” he began, his voice now slurring, wavering. “I can’t stand that, stand the way she talks to you, the way she looks at you, I-”

“What?”

“She just...” Vincent was trying his hardest to look away now. “I-- I don’t like those parties, where all those _demons_ , those _whores_ flock to you, wanting to use you to gain more-- more--”

Gilbert was completely floored by this confession. He kept his brothers chin captured, watching the blond flounder a little, stumble out words that strung together just barely, all form of eloquence and grace gone as he said things like _you don’t know them like I do, they just want to suck your soul out of you and you’re too good for them, to good for this, Gilbert and I’ll be damned if I let those harpies get to my only brother--_.

  
He let his brother rant for a bit more, before eventually releasing his chin and dropping both hands back into his lap. Eventually the fire in Vincent died out, and his words faded away, his own hands dropping into his lap as well. If there was any liquid left in the glass then it would be all spilled out onto the floor now, but luckily it was completely empty.

After a bit of silence, Gilbert running things in his head, he spoke up again. “Is this new? You’ve never been bothered by these parties before.”

“I’ve always hated them,” Vincent grumbled like a child.

“But you’re so good at them!”

“For _you_!” Vincent snapped at him, causing the older brother to flinch. “I go to them for you! I-- I don’t care what our father says, what those women think of me! You don’t like being there alone, so I do it for you! I talk to them for you! And yet, you--” his energy started to die again, his voice losing strength, wavering and cracking like a dying fire. “you-- you keep doing it, you keep letting this happen, and I-- can’t--”

“Woah, woah!” Gilbert attempted to stop where this conversation was going, trying to defend himself. “Vince, you are _drunk_. You have never behaved like this before. How was I supposed to know? Did you even _eat_ anything?”

“Of course not.”

“You’ve been drinking since we got there, consistently, alone, without eating?”

Vincent didn’t even bother to respond. His silence was answer enough.

Gilbert tried calculating time and how much Vincent could possibly drink from when he noticed Vincent had disappeared until when they left. If he had been downing the drinks the way he had seen him, then it was an absurd amount, especially on an empty stomach. It wasn’t like he was drinking hard liquor, but spiced wine, rapidly, back to back, without anything to eat would definitely add up.

The silence was stretching out for longer than Gilbert intended. Vincent started to sway with the coach, but Gilbert couldn’t think of what he could possibly say. A lecture? Vincent probably knew that what he did was dumb, but he didn’t expect his brother to break down like that. Vincent always took care of social situations. He always took care of Gilbert in these social situations.

Vincent looked small. He looked so young sitting across from him, a child thrown in these adult settings, feeling forced to because he knew he could handle it better than his brother could, taking on these challenges so Gilbert didn’t have to carry the burden all by himself. The thought of it, matched with Vincent sitting drunkenly and uselessly on the other side of the carriage made Gilbert reach over, squeezing his arms around his shoulders in a vice grip that barely passed for a hug.

The blond was completely cut off guard, dropping the glass that was in his hand instantly. Distantly, Gilbert wondered if it broke. Vincent was completely stiff in his arms, on edge, and Gilbert tried remembering when the last time he had ever given him a hug was. Was it… was it when he first met him, years ago?

“Sorry, Vince. You’re always trying to help me, and yet I just… keep making things harder on you.”

Vincent made a choked off sound, as if he was being strangled. He was completely rigid, barely breathing. Gilbert gave him another squeeze.

“You don’t have to cover for me in those situations. I don’t like ‘em, you don’t like ‘em, so we can-- we can, maybe, just, try not to go as much. I can talk to Bernard, and maybe-- if we still have to go, then we can just try to avoid the social scene. I don’t plan on getting married any time soon, so…. Fuck ‘em.”

Vincent still wasn’t speaking, was still stiff and hardly breathing. But eventually, after a long moment of silence, he sighed into his brother, burying his face into the crook of his neck.

They sat there until they arrived back to the Nightray manor, and Gilbert began to wonder if they would ever move, especially when the coach lurched to a stop and Vincent still hadn’t made to move anywhere. “Vince,” Gilbert called, removing his arms from the other, but that only caused Vincent to fall forward- and Gilbert realized the other was completely out cold.

“Vince,” Gilbert called again, as Vincent slumped against the seat. He grabbed and moved his shoulder, but he stayed asleep; his mouth open, his eyes shut. Gilbert groaned, but was thankful that Vincent passed out instead of vomiting (though he did hope that the other wouldn’t vomit in his sleep). Sliding one arm underneath his legs, and the other through his arms he lifted his brother, trying to nudge and get the coach open with his back.

Vincent lifted easily, his head resting on Gilbert’s chest. The step onto the ground was a bit difficult but Gilbert made it out, the wind still going and a bit of rain sprinkling down- not enough to soak the two men ( ~~boys~~ ), so it wasn’t bothersome. Gilbert thanked the driver and with a lot of struggle, managed to give him a tip before carrying his brother back into the Nightray manor.

It was late enough that even the maids and servants had retired to their quarters, so Gilbert was alone to carry his unconscious brother up the stairs and into his dark bedroom. The thought of changing his brother crossed his mind, but that would be inappropriate, so all he did was sit him down on the bed and remove Vincent’s boots and top coat. He had to lay his brother at an awkward angle, and then lift his legs onto the bed like he was an over-sized doll. With this motion, one red eye opened and looked at his direction, barely even seeming to register Gilbert himself.

“Sorry,” Gilbert whispered, but he wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for. “I’ll be going. Goodnight.”

Vincent didn’t say anything, but he purred a relatively content sounding purr, closing his eye again, and slept like a child.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments put my cat through college.
> 
> Edit (5.27.18): Added italics and cross-out text, as it didn't have that before.


End file.
